The Last Memories of Gregor
by ItsATrap101
Summary: Clone Commando Gregor gets amnesia after his crash on Abafar, and is enticed to work for the greedy Mr. Borkus. At least until R2-D2, QT-KT, U9-C4, M5-BZ, WAC-47, and Colonel Meebur Gascon convince him to live a life. Soon he realizes his programming as a soldier for the Republic and the duty as servant for all that is good. MY SECOND FANFIC!
1. A New Job

**Hello, I looked up fanfictions for the Clone Commando Captain Gregor and I couldn't find any. I really wanted to create one myself and when I saw the movie Lord of the Rings: Return of the King again and I listened to Pippin's Song, I was immediately reminded of Gregor and his tragedy. So one thing became another and here I am with this. Enjoy!**

**Spoilers: If you haven't seen the Clone Wars episode 'Missing in Action', this story will contain major spoilers for that episode.**

* * *

**"Home is Behind, the Wo-or-rld Ahead"**

Who am I. Do you really want to know? If you can believe half a thing that I can learn; if you believe my story is supposed to be interesting to anyone outside the City, then I am here to tell you that you came to the wrong place. I'm sure you would believe the same when you hear what my job is. I am merely a simple dishwasher of the diner, Power Sliders. My boss is a greasily greedy Sullustan named Mr. Borkus. Although, everyone else believes he is very impatient and an unfriendly parasite, I know he truly is a kind fellow. He saved my life and took me in as my only family. He gave me a job at his eating establishment, even when no one else would hire me. Pons Ora, and the rest of Abafar for that matter, was an extremely unforgiving, godforsaken place. It takes everything from life and never gives. As for me, my story began-

Oh my, I forgot my manners! I could keep narrating until the darkness of this planet can cease to settle that I forget to introduce myself! My name (surprised I even have a name) is Gregory Boss! But everyone knows me simply, for short, as Gregor... Gregor, I know, I know. Sounds like I am a tough man. Well, I have to hand it to you: 'Names can be deceiving'. I am no man. I have no meaning. I am just a dishwasher. My sole purpose in life is to clean excess waste of others. I am just a misfit.

And if that's makes you sad, don't. You don't need to worry nor pity me. The truth is I don't have a life. All I remember in my birth was fire, despair, and the Void.

* * *

I woke up into life on a ... bed. Well, I guess it's a bed because it had a pillow, but it looked as if someone chiseled into the white, rocky wall. There was something... familiar about this place. There was white floors, white tables, white bookshelves, white chairs, and white doors. It was like I was living in a large test tube.

I raised my head and groaned, except... except, I felt a very grueling bump on my forehead. It was very painful.

I tried to remember what caused the pain, but... I couldn't remember. I don't remember how I got here nor what happened beforehand. I don't remember anything. But I knew something or someone brought me here.

Strange, I had no memory of how I ended up here and yet I had enough intelligent knowledge to know that I did not magically appear here by accident. No, someone brought me here, I could not put my finger on what-

The door quickly slid open and a very fat man came in the room. At least I thought I was a man because- I couldn't tell. I knew he had awfully flabby cheeks to me a man. Perhaps that was due to his obesity.

"So choo vinally decided to wake up." said the strange man with the most strangest accent I could never have expected for a man that fat. Then I asked the question I was so dying to ask since I woke up.

"Where am I?" I rubbed my head, suddenly noticing how much of a headache I had. "Ouch!" I exclaimed when I put pressure on the bump of my head. I looked at my fingers and there was a bit of blood on it. Boy, I didn't know my head injury was that serious! The hulking man must have known I was in pain because he headed over to the sink, grabbed a ceramic cup, poured some water in it, and handed it to me.

"To your 'ealth," the fat man said. I looked taken aback, not knowing what he expected me to do, but when he noticed that I did nothing, he nodded in a 'go-ahead' way and said hostly, "G'on! G'head! Drwink!" Drink? I didn't know what that meant at all. He seemed to understand my confusion for he took the cup from me without request and said, "Like t'is." He tilted the bottom of cup up, opened his mouth, poured the liquid in, and after he took a sip, he placed the cup back, gulped noisily, and gave an sound that approved he quenched his thirst. "Now choo do vhat I did."

I took the cup again, mimicked his actions, and quickly slurped that contents of the cup; except it dumped all over my shirt, drenching it. I jumped back in disgust at my failure and the man didn't do anything but laughed hysterically at my accident. "Ho, you act like a three-year-ol' chil'." he continued his boisterous snigger and sighed after he had his fun.

I was curious of who this man. I gave him a questioning look and asked, "What are you?"

"Vell," he bellowed, "I'om a Sullustan! I uwsed to work on de mining 'vacilities on the uther side of toon-"

"No, I mean what's your... ugh, name?" I interrupted

"Oh, course! Vhere is ma manners!" He bursted into unnecessary laughter once again. "I... I-I must have, he he he, left them to deep fry!" He continued guffawing as if there was no tommarrow, slapped his knee, and continued bursting out tears of hysterity. "Ugh..." he got back to his senses, "Ma name is Bosius Borkus. I own a diner doontoon of 'ere called 'Power Sliders'. I'is not much of a restaurant, but 'ey, it sure beats the back-breaking labor that men usually do a' the mine."

"Hold on minute! What is this place? What's going on?" I listfully asked. "Um, Bosius-"

"Pwease," he insisted, "call me 'Mr. Borkus'." I took a deep breath and asked my question again, this time much slower.

"Okay, Okay..., Mr. Borkus..., what is this place?"

"Hmmmmm, ouh, yes. This place, this town is known as Pons Ora. It is a mining 'vacility rwon by de Separatist dwoids. Ev'ryone 'oo lives 'ere ar' smugglers or pirates who crwash-landed on this... dustball. People who crwash usually never come out of the desert that surrounds this place. Those who do ar' the lucky ones. The dwoids save us vrom the ones 'oo crwash or ar' lost and give them a peaceful life avay from de Void."

"The Void, sir?" I asked questioningly

"Ouh, yes. The Void! It t'is the desert that surrounds this toon. A'yone 'oo is brave enough to venture out there..., never return." he shaked his head and sighed, "Oh, 'ow I lost so many good friends to that... that op'ressive desert. They believed it is right to leave this pwace for a better life, but their effort becomes only a fool's errand. It is suicide to 'ave adventure, choo must un'erstand that. I'is better to have a simple life than no life at all." he sighed again, "They vere very good pweople. Good... but voolish. I lost so many good people to the Void. It bwings 'opelessness choo see. Makes me vonder vhy people bother."

"Perhaps they do it because they are brave." I commented, but that only caused the hulking Borkus to guffaw once again.

When he finished his fit of laughter, he looked at me again and said, "There is no such ting as bwavery, my boy. Bwavery only leads to self-anihilation... Choo wou'd have died 'ad it not been vor me."

"Yeah," I interrupted once again, "that is my next question. Where did I come from? Who am I?" I needed to know, and if I cannot remember myself, then I need someone else to do it for me.

He skimmed ahead to the details, "When I came to your ship, you vere barely alive. I saw that bump on your 'ead and figured choo needed 'elp. I brought choo 'ere, ma medical dwoid checked on choo, an' it vound out zhat choo have amnesia." Amnesia? Was that some kind of bug?

"What is amnesia?" I asked

"It t'is the condition of the brwain vhere someone loses part o' their memory. It is sometimes short-termed, but sometimes it never comes back." he answered. My heart puddled into the pit of my stomach. So, I may never remember who I am? That made me extremely grieved and fearful because of that.

"Is this amnesia gonna last forever?" I begged desperately. Mr. Borkus' pitying facial expression said it all, however.

"Pwobably so." he answered. I fell back into my bed completely depraved.

"I'm sorry that choo 'ave to deal vith this..." he commented sympathetically.

I said nothing. I still needed to know who I am. I just had to. "Was there anything in my ship that survived my crash?" I asked...

Borkus did not immediately answer like last time. Then after a suspiciously hesitant moment, he promptly said, "No. I am sorry. What ever choo carried on choo'r ship was either lost in space, or was not there at all." he said frankly. Well, he did have a logical point. What would I have with me that could be so important?

"OK." I retorted stiffly. There was a long silence until Mr. Borkus finally said,

"I'm sorry with what choo 'ave to zeal with..." I said nothing. He was just repeating himself. "Lis'en," he said with a sudden amount of enthusiasm, "if it would make choo veel an'a better, how abou' choo work at ma eating joint, hmmm...? Choo can be dishwasher." He punched my shoulder encouragingly. "It will be better than the rough manual labor that ev'ryone has to do 'ere." I continued to say nothing. When he spoke again he was much more threatening than before. "Oh, and choo owe me vor saving your life. You ar' lucky to be 'ere, an' better yet, you do not 'ave to toil in the 'voundries of the fuel mines." he offered, but I quickly pipped in by interrupting.

"What is the fuel they excavate here?" I asked

"Rhydonium. A very small amoun' can equal a lot of power, he he... Powerful power... The dwoids are goin' to use them for a particular plan in their war vith the Republic."

I was thoughtful... I didn't know what a Republic was, but for some odd reason it sounded familiar. But I kept my mouth shut on that matter.

"Hmmmm," I hummed to myself, "is there anything I can do here besides cleaning or mining-"

"NO!" Borkus shouted, way too hastily. "Choo must remember that choo owe me your life. Choo ar' lucky to be alive and not suffering from despair."

"OK." I reassured, but he was not so acceptable of my wishy-washy attitude for he stood up, dominating above where I laid, and elaborated, "Choo musta un'erstand that this is a cruel place. Choo either survive or perish. Nothing more, nothing less! DON'T CHOO UN'ERSTAND!? If anyone were to come by choo'r dying body they vould 'ave causually left choo to rot and 'ave choo'r remains eaten by buzzards! And this is the thanks I get for saving choo'r life!? Choo owe me!"

I simply cowered as far as I could where I laid... I suppose I do owe him respect for what he did.

"Alright, alright, I'll work for you, sir, as long as I get a sufficient salary." I coiled.

"I will pay choo 'owever I can to keep ma profits. Choo just know yo' place. OK?" he ordered

"Yes, of course." I listed out quickly

"Yes, 'boss' or 'Mr. Borkus'." he scowled.

"Yes, boss." I said salutely.

"Very good. Choo're learning. I expect proper appreciation when choo work at ma place. Just choo remember, 'Choo ar' lucky to be 'ere."

"Yes, sir." I sniffed

"Does this make choo feel bad?" he asked with a sudden concern

"No..." I said, "Just a little gregarious. I want to go outside to look around."

Borkus chuckled. "Choo use very big words vor someone who just recieved amnesia."

"Well, I can't help it, boss. It's almost like it was bred into me."

Mr. Borkus snapped his fingers. "That's it! That's what I will call choo! Gregor! Gregor Boss, how's-a that! Choo like it?"

I just smiled and said, "You can call me whatever you want boss. It doesn't mind to me."

"Of course it doesn't. Choo jus' remember that it t'is worth it to 'ave a simple life than none at all. A man like you deserves it. Just remember choo'r purpose."

* * *

I closed my diary and put it back on my shelf. It was the only thing I can do in my free time other than drink all the alcohol that I can afford... And I didn't mind.

Today, I needed to get ready for another day at work.

Little did Gregor know that this day will be his last day he had to toil under the manipulations of Bosius Borkus.

Hope you like my first chapter. I should be studying for my semi-finals, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to start a new story than continue 'Where Doesn't It Hurt', not because I didn't like it, but because I just wanted to start a story on Gregor. Don't worry, I am still working on my Onderon story.

I hope I gave the accent of Mr. Borkus with justice (Kind of Transylvanian if you ask me. Like a vampire)

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**Review please please!**


	2. Questions

**Well, here's chapter two. There will be, like I said, a lot of flashbacks in this story. But anyways, let me start.**

**Court Mallet****: Your right, Mr. Borkus' accent sounds like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets, but his voice in the show sounds very Transylvanian-like. Just my opinion.**

**Guest: Thanks for liking my story. I'm continuing it now.**

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**"And There so Many Paths to Dread"**

I went up to the diner and walked inside.

"Hello, boss." I greeted.

"Your late, Gregor." Borkus scolded.

"Sorry, sir."

"'Sorry' doesn't clean the dishes... Now get to work. We alr'dy have customers 'ere vor breakfast."

I scratched my chin, which now grew into a beard, and walked over to my post.

There was a constant aroma of deep fried nuna and alcohol and all the customers were either playing with their food or had their head rest flat top on the table.

It was always constantly boring here, so the least I can do was strike a conversation with the patrons or Mr. Borkus.

* * *

Once everyone left to do their part in the mine, there were no people inside besides me and Borkus. We had nothing to do at all except playing games of dejarik to pass the time. We were just waiting until someone arrives. So, I asked the question I was so dying to ask.

"Sir, I was wondering-"

"If I'll go easy on choo. The answer is 'no'."

"It's not that, it's just. Uhhhhhh." I hesitated.

"Is zhere a p'oblem, Gregor?"

"Yes, actually, yes. There is a problem at my apartment in the 5th Corner." I said slightly nervous.

"Mmmmmm, yes. What kind o' p'oblem is it?" he asked nonchalantly.

"The lady there said I was not paying enough for how much the room cost." I continued

"An' what ex'ctly does this 'ave to do with me?" Borkus questioned dismissively.

"Well, since I don't have enough money to pay for my rent, I was wondering if I can get a raise... You know, so I can live in a separate room than be out on the streets." Borkus transitioned his focus from the board and looked up to me.

"Choo don't need a l'aise, Gregor."

"But, boss, all the other places around town are full. The only other place I can live is here or on the streets."

"Choo _can't _'ave a l'aise!" he shouted with a frightening firmness.

But, sir, I-I-I-I..." I stopped.

I felt the ground shake, the holograms on the board were starting to fizz in and out of focus, and I heard a loud rumbling coming closer and closer.

"What _is _that?" I was just crazily confused at the odd sensation going on.

"Awwwww, p'rhaps the birds have come back." I took a double take on what he said.

"Uhhhhh, birds, sir?"

"Yes, birds. Every revolution this planet takes, a 'volck o' migratory birds come to dwink the water that the dwoids store. The rare water." he sighed. "Choo'd tink they put a 'vence aroun' the water... Idiot dwoids... Water is worth more than gold out 'ere." He took a deep breath again and after a moment said, "Tell choo what, how abou' I pay the difference your rent needs so choo can live in there, hmmmmm? But choo ar'n' gettin' an'a l'aises, un'erstand?" Oh well, that was good enough and I am lucky to be living in _any _home. The only problem is I won't be able to pay for any beer if the money I make only pays for my room. But it was a worthy sacrifice...

Borkus made a winning move in the game. "Ah ha! I won aga'n...! Oh, and jus' in time. The workers are 'ere 'vor luuunch." A couple minutes later and the whole place was filled with drunkards

* * *

Minutes passed and I continued to work on the dishes. People were becoming more and more slobs every time with their food due to the fact that most of them were drunk. I handed a beer bottle to a customer when I heard the door open. I looked to see who it was, but no one was there but a Pit Droid.

"Good day." said a very deep voice. No, it couldn't have came from the droid. Droids have a higher voice than that. I looked down and was suprised to see a very pip-squeak diminutive creature standing intrepidly erect and proud. Why, the thing had to be no less than _three_ inches tall. He looked about the cafe slightly suspicious. Everyone turned their attention to him.

"I am Colonel Gascon of the Grand Army of the Republic and I'm here on _very_ important business." he announced. I saw my boss hop off his platform he was standing on and walked around the counter. Although I was really curious on what the creature wanted, I had to go back and do my job in cleaning the dishes. But I listened very intently on the 'Colonel' (didn't know what kind of species that is)

The 'Colonel' spoke, "I don't have much time, so if you'll be so kind as to fix me your daily special and let my droid recharge-"

"NO DWOID!" my boss suddenly snarled. I didn't know why he was being so harsh on the 'Colonel'. I mean, he didn't do anything, and his food wouldn't be so hard to serve considering how small he was.

"_Fine...!"_ the 'Colonel' said defeated. I then heard him speak to the Pit Droid. "Wait for me outside, Corporal." But Borkus interupted him again.

"We don't serve choo'_r_ type eit'er!" _Honestly, what did the boss have against him!_

"What 'type' are _you_ referring to?!" _Boy, for a creature that small, he sure is argumentative. _

"Conduit worms!" Borkus sneered. Oh, so the 'Colonel' is really a 'conduit worm'... But the creature was still not pleased that he wasn't being fetched a meal.

"I beg your pardon, I am a Zilkin!" Now I was really confused. So this Gascon creature claims to be a 'Colonel' and a 'Zilkin' but he looks like a 'conduit worm', but how does that make sense that he is both a 'Zilkin' and a 'Colonel'.

"You'll be begging 'vor your life, if you don't beat it!" my boss threatened. I stopped what I was doing, rounded the corner, and see what was happening. To my shock, my boss was brandishing a large buthcher knife and was about to slash down on the 'Zilkin'.

"BEAT IT!" Borkus was now getting murderous. He chased the creature and the droid out of the bar, leaving them screaming...

Once the two were gone, and my boss went around the corner and continued to cook the nuna burgers. I was just too flabbergasted at what the little charade he had with the droid and Gascon.

"What was that all about."

"Outsiders. Resources 'ere ar' 'ard to come by so I'm not wasting my food on such a little parasite."

"But that 'parasite' is as tiny as fry. How in Void's name would he be so hard to feed? And by the way, we're all outsiders here. Why is he any different?"

"Never choo mind, Gregor. Now if I am recalling anyting, don't choo have dishes to clean?" he scolded again

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." I said obediantly. I didn't want to get on his bad side today.

"Oh, bu' before choo do, change ou' the garbage bins. They're starting to smell and attrac' bugs." He left and continued frying up the meals.

"This whole place is filled with bugs and parasites" I commented to myself.

So, I did as he told, took the garbage bin, went out the back door, and dumped it... However, what I did not expect was that I heard coughing and groans of disgust below me. I looked down and, low-and-behold, the same creature was there, covered in dust and grime, sputtering in dismay.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't see you there." I felt pity for the tiny thing who was forced to feast off trash, and being a dishwasher I knew how desperate you'd have to be to stoop to that level. I wanted to make it up to him. The ruthful poverty he was in kept making me fear of losing my own job and having to live off the streets like this.

"Look, I can get you some food but," I was reminded that I could not conspire against the business of my boss just so one person could have a meal, "normally people go through the front door." Gascon suddenly looked shocked at what I said. I just couldn't leave a poor creature without charity when he needed it. "But it's no problem." He then narrowed his eyes. _Um, did he understand what I was just trying to say?_ "You _do _know your eating garbage, right?" I had to make sure he was sane.

Gascon threw the moldy green bread aside and pointed a finger, "You're a _clone_." That was not a question but a declaration. Maybe this Gascon was crazy after all.

"Excuse me." I scratched my head and picked up the container bin. I was ready to finish this conversation. "I wouldn't know anything about that, ugh," I thought now was a good time to introduce myself. "My name is Gregor." But then another question popped into my mind. _Wait a minute! Clone?!_ For some reason, that sounded familiar like 'Republic'. "Wait! What's a clone?" I asked.

However the Zilkin ignored me as he hopped onto the trash heap and then on the container bin I was holding. I got confused. He grabbed my head and inspected me, even looking to see what my eye color was. _Did this Gascon know me? _

"You are a clone!" He laughed, "Are you working undercover?" Now, I knew this thing was crazy.

"Eh, _I_ don't know what you are talking about." I was trying my best to reason with him, but he didn't seem to take 'no' for an anwser.

"Listen to me soldier, whatever your assignment is, it can't be more important than mine." _What?! _

"It is his first real mission." The Pit Droid pipped in, "He is just a map-reader." _Ok, maybe this Gascon has been talking to his droid a little too much. _

"Don't you listen to that _ignorance_. You are a _clone_ and a _soldier_ in the Republic Army and I **order** you to take me to your ship! We need to get back to Coruscant immediately" I became really confused. I was sure now that this person ate a little too much garbage. Now, he believes I am an affiliate to him. I set the bin down for Gascon to hop off of. I didn't want to be rude, but how does one reason with someone who is lunatic.

"Uhhh, look, friend, I am just trying to help. I'm sorry if you took it the wrong way."

"I don't think that soldier thinks your a colonel, uhh, Colonel." the droid saluted. _Perhaps the droid is a little smarter than Gascon_.

But to my misfortune, I heard a loud shriek from my boss inside. "Gregor! Get back to 'vork!" _Oh, no. I didn't want to lose my job, live off the streets, and become crazy like this Zilkin._

I groaned, "'Cuse me, I don't want to lose my job." I swear this frog-like creature was going to become the death of me. I walked back inside, ignored him, and finished my work that day...

But in all that time, one thought kept racing in my head. _What is a clone...? Am I a clone...?_

* * *

As me and my boss walked out of our diner, I was preparing the whole afternoon to ask the question I was so dying to ask. My curiosity was getting the better of me.

"So, uh..., boss..., yo-yo-you know I've been just wondering-"

"No, Gregor, you can't have a l'aise." he said firmly and locked the door to Power Sliders. _Oh, he still thought I wanted more money. _He started to walk away.

"Oh, no no no no no. I don't want a raise, sir." I had to get on his good side if I wanted answers. "I-I-I just wanted to know...," _Here goes nothing! _"What's a clone...?" That came off weak. I had to be more conversational than pressing if I intended answers. "Uhh, somebody told me I was a clone, today... They _insisted_." However what Mr. Borkus said next was the answer I wanted, but not quite as fulfilling as I expected it to be.

"A clone?" He laughed mockingly. "Clones 'vight battles acloss the gal'xy! They are bwave soldiers! Does that sound like choo?" He turned to face me and stopped abruptly in my place. "Choo're a _dishwasher_, Gregor. 'Vorget abou' clones or anyting like that. Choo 'ave good life 'ere, hmmm? A _simple_ life." He was reminding me of my first conversation I had with him. He patted his big gruff hand on my shoulder in a hostly manner. "More than choo 'ad befo' Borkus 'vound choo!"

This debate was going downhill. I couldn't lose my job just because Mr. Borkus thinks I am unforgiving.

"I-I-I know," I stuttered lowly, "And I appreciate everything that you have done, believe me, but..." I just had to know. This mystery would only make me suffer if I did not know. "... I thought that maybe you can... could you tell me _how_ did I get here?" That was a long shot if he knew, but he has to have some kind of information. "Where did you find me?"

However, Borkus was through with my questions. "Enough questions. Go 'ome! Sleep! Come back tomorrow! Do choo'r job!" He left to his own home. And left me dazzled with inquisition. Maybe I'll be able to ask him my questions on a later date. "And I don't ever want to hear that word '_clone'_ again... understand?" Well, that finished that.

I was left alone... with no purposes... Borkus says I have no other purpose than cleaning. But... but I just wanted a better life than the one I recieve here. Perhaps he is keeping something from me. _Don't be ridiculous! He saved your life! You owe him...!_

But either way I was dazzled with new meanings that came to me... I looked up at the orange sunless sky wondering if it had any answers.

* * *

**Thanks everyone! I am not getting as much views on this story as I am expecting. Probably because more people are interested in my Luxsoka story, Where Doesn't It Hurt. So I will be focusing more on that story than this, but either way I will be keeping this fic accounted for. I will have four more chapters to go. But before I get there, please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW, rate, or criticize! Until I update again, may the Force be with you!**


	3. Answers

**Sorry for not updating in three months... I've been _so_ much more focused on my more grander Luxsoka story, Where Doesn't It Hurt!, that I put very _little_ attention towards this... But nonetheless, here's my update. Enjoy!**

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**"Through Shadow, Through the Edge of Night"**

I walked back to the homestead in worry... I get to keep my home, but _no_ more alcohol... I would have rather picked beer than a room, but knowing how _insane_ that diminutive Zilkin (Oh, wait..., it's a Colonel, right?) that I decided to keep some wisdom in my choices... I always should remember what Mr. Borkus said: 'It is better to have a simple life than no life at all. There is no such thing as bravery. Only your moral choices.' And I think that I should keep my rent for a little bit longer. It's my only safe haven to be. There is nothing more to life after death.

So on with my normal routine, I waved to my acquaintances, hopped down the stairs by the doorway..., but unlike what I normally do, I looked back to see if anyone was following me... _No one... No crazies were after my step... Good..._

I walked inside, hit the switch so the worn-down lighting system could buzz on, and opened my refrigerator to savor the last beer bottle I may ever come to gorge...

The fizz of the drink hit me, making my spine tingle and my tongue endorse a once daily nourishment...

And then the weirdest thing occurred... A blue 'man' appeared, buzzing like it had no tangible form; literally out of thin air. "Captain Rex, reporting for duty."

I jumped back, almost dropping the glass bottle to my feet upon sight of the unexpected intruder. "WHAT THE-"

Then the figure was absolutely _motionless_, standing at attention, with a same colored armor as a GI Joe would wear... But there was something else to him as well. The blue apparition had the _same_ intentions in my face, stood the _same_ height, and (unusually enough) had an unblinking stern expression I sometimes carry...

I walked up, slightly afraid that the person might put up a fight... But he still stayed _unmovable _and_ unfathomable_. I put a hand on his torso's armor, which quickly engulfed it inside the blue 'fizz' like a swamp cloud. But what struck me most strange about this, was the figure seemed to mirror me. _Is he a twin? A long-lost relative? A **brother**?_

"Is that... _me_?" My mind was pitted in chaos, uniquely imagining all the possibilities this could be.

"No." A voice came suddenly from behind and in the doorway that I regrettably left open... It was that 'Colonel' again. "That's _Captain_ Rex. He's a _clone_... and a soldier within the Republic... Just like _you_, Gregor..." I stared at the 'mirror' of myself... Of _who_ this 'clone' was.

"I can't believe it." I remarked, more to myself than anyone else, but Gascon took it as me talking back to him, romping into my room like he owns the place..._ Wait, does he **own** this apartment? I don't know!_

"_Believe it_, Gregor. You're not a simpleton. A clone, even though they are identical, are so much _more_... You can be so much _more_..."

I decided to take some of his words for it. He might not know me as well as Mr. Borkus, but he still knows a _bit_ of my past... I was beginning to recall more and more of myself. And then the blue picture of the man disappeared from sight as if it were a light turned off... But as much as I wanted to stare at him, to gaze at myself, I realized that this 'Rex' was less questionable than the Colonel who was standing in my room.

"What is a 'clone'... exactly?" I had to know once and for all, and if Borkus cannot give me a _complete_ answer, then I have to find someone else who would.

"A 'clone' is a genetically enhanced creature or person that has all of the same physical traits as its donor... For your case, you were cloned by the bounty hunter named Jango Fett... who was known for being _auspicious_ and _considerate_... for a mercenary..."

I thought for a minute. _Bounty hunter?_ Aren't _bounty hunters ruthless and only care about their rewards..._ "Aren't bounty hunters... _distrustful_?" I raised an eyebrow...

"Usually..." Gascon remarked..., "But not the Fetts... They can be very _honorable_ if they want to... _When_ they are not focused on their missions... But that is irrelevant now! We need to talk with my cohorts..." The inch high being turned around to call for the others. "Corporal! You may enter!"

And through the door came the same Pit Droid that I saw in the bar and out in the alleyway... "Corporal WAC-47, reporting for duty!" The high-pitched droid squealed out over-enthusiastically...

"At ease, soldier." Gascon barked at it. (Or _him_, I suppose. Droids have feelings, right?)

Wack quickly let his arm drop from his salute... It was then that Gascon turned back to me.

"And I would like to show you the other soldiers that I happen to work with... R2!" Like the Pit Droid others followed suit, including a blue and a pink R2 unit, a yellow R4, and a green (and broken-down by the looks of him) R5 droid... All of them were Astromechs.

"Now, I would like to tell you their names. This blue one here is called R2-D2." Artoo gave a cheerful beep.

"The pink is QT-KT." Qutie gave an even higher pitched squeak.

"The yellow one is U9-C4." Ceefor gave an almost gutteral blip.

"And last but not least, my command center-"

Artoo interjected another bleep before he could finish, "Sorry, Artoo... This green droid, M5-BZ, has a _name_. We call him Beezee." The droid was silent.

"Uhh..., hello." I got a little on edge when Beezee did not answer back. "Is this green one deaf?"

Gascon seemed to have quickly noticed this for he marched on over, hopped on the top of the flat droid's head, and did something _very_ childishly comical... He jumped up and down to get the droid to notice him. "Report, trooper!" Gascon chided. "I will not have any soldier sleeping on the job. Wake up, Beezee!"

The droid finally gave a very low conformation... "What's that?" Gascon said as if the astromechs were speaking Basic.

Wack stepped forward, "Beezee is trying to say that his fuel cells are running low and will need to power up..."

Gascon still didn't like this answer, which made me a little empathetic since I hardly get enough resources to survive each day. "Well, there is nowhere where we can charge you, trooper... You'll have to wait 'til we get back to Coruscant."

"Speaking of which..., _what_ is Coruscant?" I interrupted. "And _who_ is Captain Rex?" I referred to the blue clone that suddenly came into my room.

Gascon decided to ignore bantering his comrades and hopped onto a stack of books that was on a nearby table between me and the rest of the droids. "Coruscant is the Republic's capital in the middle of the Core."

_Pff! Some answer. I didn't know what that meant at all._ "And _where_ on Abafar is this 'Coruscant'."

The Colonel obviously didn't like training rookies for he gave an annoyed sigh, "_No_, Coruscant is **not** on this planet of Abafar... It is far away in the center of this galaxy..."

"And away from the Void?" My voice suddenly cracked from this joyful information.

"_Far_ away from this Void, Gregor." Far away from the Void? Away from all suffering and distress? Could this be the moment where my life can start to have a meaning.

"Who is Captain Rex?" I continued to grind farther, farther than I could be permitted to grind.

"Captain Rex is one of our most elite troopers who leads his squad of clones called the 501st."

'Clone troopers'? So there are more clones than just me and Rex? "Okay, slow down, slow down! You're telling me that there are more of these... 'clones'?"

Wack came up to speak, much like the chatterbox that he was starting to make himself as... "Millions... A whole _army's_ worth." A whole army? Mr. Borkus has always described how unique I was... But if there is millions of men exactly like me, then I may not seem so special that I made myself as.

"Ah-ha..." I need to be unique. If there are an army of clones, people with the precise personality as my own, than I am nothing more than a mindless and simple droid... But I am a human being, not a tool... "And they all look exactly... like me?"

"No..." Gascon was getting more and more frank with me, lacking zero patience with all the events that was played around him. "Those clones are warriors. Professional soldiers created by the Republic... trained to fight, and die if necessary, in our war against the Separatists." Oh, so maybe a life outside this Void is not quite the land of milk and honey. "They're not dishwashers living in some vermin-infested povel!" He slammed his foot down to squish a bug, further exemplifying his point.

_But if there is not much of a free life outside the Void, then how can I risk giving all of that up?_ "Look, I-I'm lucky to live in this place. Mr. Borkus s-says that my salary doesn't even cover the rent... so he pays the difference for me." I am lucky to drag through a so-called 'simple life'... But is life really that simple... My mind is set as young as a schoolboy, as if my aging was programmed to accelerate.

"Don't you get it, Gregor? You're his _slave!_ We need to figure out who you really are, how you got here..." Slave? Mr. Borkus may seem suspicious, but he surely treats me with utter respect. And I enjoy being alive... I owe him all the respect I can give him... And yet..., and yet a part of me wonders if there is something out there more than this dull-drum and slow routine. "Are you sure you don't remember _anything_?!"

_I remember a lot, for your information, Mr. Toad...!_ I simply **don't** remember who I am. "Well..., all I remember is waking up on a transport... Somehow we crashed on Abafar... And, well, Mr. Borkus says that I have... amnesia..." Bosius told me time and time again that I crashed with him and that he had great compassion for those around, including me.

"Hmmmm..., every clone has an identifying code on their wrist. Your military records will be in the databanks." I looked at my right wrist, next to what seemed to be jail cuffs which Mr. Borkus has given me in order to tell what time it is to arrive for work... Is this a form of _slavery_? Is there slavery within the Republic that I seemed to have been programmed to serve? "Scan him, Artoo."

The blue astromech came up, and sent a dissipated blue ray that must be a 'scanner'... And out of my wrist appeared what looked like my identification. And in the writings of Aurebesh, it said...

_**RC-5576-39**, 212th Attack Battalion, Reconnaissance Commando__, Captain of Ghost Company, GAR_

_Missing-in-Action: Sarrish, Vensensor Sector, Outer Rim_

"Impressive... Gregor, your designation is 'RC fifty-five seventy-six dash thirty-nine'... You were a _Captain_ and part of an _elite_ squad... A clone _commando_..." I looked at the picture of me, and although it wasn't in full color, I was regardless awestruck at how high up in the ranks I was back in my supposed heyday... And even if I was a copied clone trooper, this proves that I was special in being a praised elite. "The file says you were reported missing-in-action during... the Battle of Sarrish..."

All the droids were buzzing mournfully at this news..., making me have some nostalgia over that one word: Sarrish.

"Sarrish...? Sarrish..." I turned to the Colonel. "Wait..., what _was_ the Battle of Sarrish?"

He behaved most grimly as my head continued to strew with a violent headache. "It was one of the Republic's most devastating loses..."

Then it came... I saw a rainy, swampy landscape, carved almost flatly with craters of artillery fire... There was smoke everywhere, like the Void's final Judgement... And trashes of vehicles plague hider and yon that made the whole place filled with scorched grounds that could make any god go insane of what was taking placed there.

"Sarrish...?" My mind came to that one memory. "Yes..., yes I remember now... So many soldiers were dying..."

It was horrible, hearing the never-ending screams of agony as many white-armored brothers were dying or committing even worser sins. Insubordination. Cannibalism. Betrayal. Blaster fire... Pitiless droids... Merciless weather, with pouring rain and hurricane-like winds... And most of all: Death, _Death_, **_DEATH_**! But what most troubled me was that I remembered all of those events happening, just **_not_ **_how_ or _why_ they occurred... It was chaos that made no sense, for all I could remember was those negative words that happened throughout that whole catastrophe.

"Do... do you remember how you escaped Sarrish?" Gascon questioned remorsefully.

I tried to deepen my mind to find all the details to all of those unanswerable questions... And like I said before, it troubled me immensely. One may not understand my predicament, but to put in simpler terms, it is like **not** remembering one's joyous childhood. Free with fun or freedom or leisure... But now, all I have is endless duty and damned programming.

I _couldn't_ remember anything, not my ancient valor nor reason to live... And I had to remember those details... It was all I had left.

"No... I just remember seeing all those...bodies... Bodies everywhere..."

Flesh was strewn about. Blood soaked through some of the soldiers armor (Yes, _armor_!). And there was nothing out there than senseless carnage with no trace of routine peace... Then I remembered seeing my whole squad perish under the robotic might as I followed with the duty of my clone brothers to help them escape death. An impossible task within the Void. "I knew that I had to get help... But that's where the memory stops..." I couldn't remember anything. That was it. Period. No reason. No how. No control... Only chaos within that enclosing void.

"Well, soldier, there is nothing you can do about that battle now..." Gascon replied.

It appears I may never help those who asked for life. Never can I keep faith in one person, but rather everyone I deal with... It's either that, or just be with myself.

"But you can help us... Our mission depends on it." I looked at the courageous droids, programmed just like me in their own rights...

I tried to shoo those interfering thoughts of Sarrish, but they only came back to haunt me... And there will be _nothing_ I can ever do to help those brothers... But now, I have another team that I can participate... These droids, on a dutiful mission to wholeheartedly serve the Republic... The reason I was made in the first place...

I can still have a duty other than this simple life... A life away from one tyranny to enter another.

* * *

**Once again, sorry for not updating in a while... I was focused on my other more popular stories... So I hope you enjoy Gregor's personality as I do. It just goes to show how clones are so very unique, and rightfully so... They are heroes, not tools...**

**So this is the big chapter for Gregor. The one where he realizes who he is and who he should be.**

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW and I will see if I can update faster for this story!**


	4. Destiny Revealed

**Here's fourth chapter... And more Gregor.**

* * *

**"Until the Stars are All Aligned"**

I thought long and hard about the proposition. Their mission depends on _me_. If I refuse, they fail. And I will always have that regret in the back of my mind for how it could have been. How it should have been!

_Going far from the borders of the Void... Far from suffering! Far from regret! To do a duty that actually helps the well-being of others! That is **who** I am..._

But..., it is who I am programmed to be... I was always meant to be a soldier, have little in the ways of personality, and die with brothers... I _can't_ risk dying knowing that I have an actual purpose, even if that purpose may mean to _die_.

In ways, I feel as if I am a child at heart. Just want to see action and always support authority... But I still wonder if the only action that can be faced is the one in my heart, my ability to withstand courage as a vital weapon... That's what soldiers have to deal with. Bravery... Something smugglers and con-men seem to _constantly_ lack... And if bravery does not at all exist-

_Bossy Bork_! He lied to me! He used me like cannon fodder.

_But you are a clone as well! Aren't they cannon fodder as well!? Don't they create millions of clones so that they can overwhelm enemies with sheer numbers, regardless of the fact that every man and woman and child, by the Golden Rule, is always a different individual?_

It seemed wrong to go out and risk dying if I still have a blissful life... But Gascon, Wack, Artoo, Qutie, Ceefor, and Beezee need my help! I am much like them. I am programmed to serve others and believe in what they believe. They still do what is just. They are still soldiers with different traits and personalities. And they all seem to enjoy every bit of what they do... Is that so bad?

"Give... give me a moment, Colonel... I need five minutes to come up with a decision..."

"But." Wack burst out, "It has _already_ been five minutes... We droids _always_ assume that when an organic is silent, they are thinking of a choice... Uh, _will_ you help us...?" '_Assumed'?_ Only the most two-dimensional minds would be biased in saying 'always'. Everyone should stop assuming _for_ me...

"Well, Corporal, I am going to need _another_ five minutes... Now scat and wait outside."

"What?" Wack got easily confused and Gascon's eyes popped out in surprise.

"And why is that, Captain?"

I rubbed my shaggy beard... If I did rejoin the Republic, then I wouldn't have to worry about keeping a room here in Pons Ora. I wouldn't have to ever worry about financial expenses again. Bliss!

"Th-thinking takes some alone and quiet time... So, if you please." I motioned them towards the door. "Allow me to do just that."

Gascon gave one quick look, almost suspicious, and then barked orders to the others. "Corporal. Lead our comrades outside to wait... I'll..., I will join you as well."

So Gascon hopped onto Beezee, stamped his foot on the droid's flat head, and they moved out. Wack got overly enthusiastic about leading, "Follow me, soldiers. Hup, two, three, four! Hup, two, three, four!" So WAC-47 led the way, followed in order by R2-D2, QT-KT, U9-C4, and M5-BZ. (Or should I say, 'Wack, Artoo, Qutie, Ceefor, and Beezee?)

Once they were all gone and the room was silent again, I went to the refrigerator, grabbed the bottle of alcohol, and stared at its almost empty contents... I sure hope soldiers are allowed to drink in the Grand Army of the Republic, because now I cannot imagine where my mind would be without some beer every now and then... I guess that can be a contributing factor as to why I am leaving:_ Not - enough - alcohol._

"Well, Sherry... Cheers to a new life. I am going to miss you." And so I took one last swig and slapped the bottle down on the table in celebration... I felt some of the liquid slip out of my mouth and seep into my beard; with little droplets evaporating into the mound of hair.

_Annoying._ "Well..., time for a shave..."

I walked over to the sink (My whole apartment was one room. If someone wished to go to the restroom, then they needed to use the public ones.), and grabbed my vacuum 'razor'... It ate up the hair with hunger, putting a luxury onto myself since I did not require to pay for shaving cream... (After all, I have to save for more _'important'_ matters.)

When I finished tack sharp, I turned the vacuum over to my hair to buzz it down... 'I am a _Captain_. Maybe I should start looking like that blue _Captain_ Rex.'

And as the tool continued its work, I could hear noises from outside... The droids and the Colonel were debating...

"Once we do succeed with this mission, Colonel, what is going to happen to Gregor?" Wack got curious.

"He's a Commando. The Captain of Ghost Company, one of Commander Cody's right-hand men... He will _not_ be staying with the likes of us. He is too important than that." I felt a wave a pressure on hearing that.

_Well, apparently I am an **elite**. I don't even remember any strategies, let alone pit myself into battle. I doubt that I would be able to continue serving as a commanding officer immediately if I didn't know how to even command._

I heard a beeping noise outside. "Yes, Artoo, I know he doesn't look like a commando... But he's only rusty. Once he is given a lift, I imagine that he can continue serving as a hero he was always meant to be." _Alright Mr. Toad! Don't butter me up! I don't want to return to the Republic flattered or anything._

There was a high pitched squeak. "I know, I know, Qutie. He needs his armor and equipment if we plan to get out of here... But I'm sure we'll find it some way or another. This town ain't that big after all."

Then there was a "BBBBBbbbbzzzzz." A low pitched buzz going from loud to trailing away softly.

"I understand Beezee. We'll get power for you as soon as possible. Time is credits! But you need to carry on for a little further. Once we return to Coruscant, we'll recharge you pronto."

Then he gave a cheerful buzz. "No! You won't get any oil baths on the way there! Our mission is to return to the Jedi Temple as soon as possible without delay if we can spare it... So buck up, soldier! War is no place for rookies!"

Artoo gave another blip. "Artoo is right, Colonel." Wack commented. "For every soldier, no matter what rank they possess, they always had to have been a rookie once. Same as every organic was once a child at some point in time."

I scoffed a smile at the droid's comeback. For someone who is seemingly slow, he can rebuke pretty easily.

"Oh ho ho, is that right? Well, let me say this wise-crack... As colonel, you soldiers need to understand that I am a higher rank than you _all_ are. That makes me able to decide what the terms may be, and I declare as your _superior_ officer that 'War is no place for rookies'."

After a pause, Wack decided to talk back again. "That is not in my programming, Colonel. As you can see, I am a WAC, not a battle droid."

"Well, you are programmed _now_ to be a soldier. And I am your commanding officer!" Gascon sounded frustrated.

"But if I were to believe that, then wouldn't that be _training_. If I am to be picked out due to abilities, wouldn't that be..., in a way, _programmed_ training."

"D'_oh_!" The Colonel got stumped at arguing with the Pit Droid. "I don't wish to discuss the difference between training and programming if it is all right with you." Gascon just sounded plainly irked.

"As you wish, Colonel." And so Wack and Gascon became silent, and after what seemed like thirty seconds the quagmire Corporal spoke out again. "Uh, Colonel, Gregor told you to give him five minutes and but it has been _six_. What if he does not accept your offer to join us?"

"Then I'll go in there and _personally_ knock some sense into him." _Oh, really?_

I decided to make my appearance for that particular moment, now freshly shaved. "That won't be necessary." The droids stared at me and even Wack gave a 'Ohh' sound in either surprise or awe. I could tell why they were behaving that way: I looked completely different now. "I thought that _looking_ like a solider would bring back some more memories..., until we recover my equipment anyway. I overheard you guy's talking. I think I know where my armor is. Lets go check out the diner."

* * *

Once we broke into the grill, Gascon began to bark orders to everyone. I went looking in cupboards, dishwashers, closets... But there was hardly anything worth my attention. _I mean, it's armor for Void's name! It shouldn't be so hard to conceal._

In the corner, no.

In the basement, no.

It was simply so very difficult to find... I no longer trust Borkus. Heck, I am not even going to work for him anymore.

But I was still hesitant to believe that he would hide my past from me. He usually seemed so very hospitable.

"Step it up, soldiers! This isn't a party. And we do not have all night." Gascon would give out orders. That didn't bother me. I was already used to it.

Then to my surprise, I heard the sound of scrapping metal. Whirling myself around, I found out that I was looking at none other than my former boss, Bosius Borkus. He possessed a chief smirk, a shameless scowl, and a suspicious stench in his presence. "Looking 'vor this!"

He threw the metal container over to me, popping the lid open. And low-and-behold, my helmet, armor, blaster, comlink, datapad, and supply container were all there.

"My uniform? My equipment?" I still couldn't believe how easily duped I was. This greasy man has been lying to me for who knows how long! "All this time you knew who I was and never _told_ me! _Why!?_" I pointed a threatening finger at him.

But Borkus was unwaverable, scheming like the conniving business man he always was. "I did not gare 'oo choo vere. Choo're dishwasher now! And choo owe me 'vor saving choo vrom choo'r cwash! Choo'r life is _mine_, Gregor!" Eye for an eye, that's what he would always tell me. But now it was my time to make my own decisions. No one should have to tell me what to do. This is my life! I have a greater purpose than this!

"You didn't _save_ me. You turned me into a _slave_! I been working in this _dump_ taking orders from _you_ when I could have been fighting for the Republic. I want my life back."

I almost lunged at him, but he reciprocated by taking the nearby blaster and aiming it at me. "Choo vant choo'r vreedom, Gregor? Take choo'r gun vrom me! Show that choo ar' a _**real**_ soldier!"

Mockery! Humiliation! I won't have it anymore. I may be as good as a slave rejoining the Grand Army of the Republic, but it surely beat being a slave to this brute... And if it meant escaping the Void, I couldn't care less what social system I would be in to serve.

I launched my arm forward to grab my blaster and shoot him back, but with a surprising agility, the fat Sullustan swinged the gun like a club and nearly knocked me out cold... I lost all my strength and humility after that moment.

"See! Choo're no soldier." He punched my arm as I was trying to get up, distilling me further. "Choo ar' a dishwasher! Ah-Ha-Ha-Ha!"

The mockery was too much to bear anymore... I was done. I belonged _nowhere_. How can I be a soldier if I can't remember being one?

Then the answer came like the sprout of a flower: Friends...

With some teamwork from the droids, Mr Borkus soon became disarmed and tied on the ground... My blaster landed right back into my bucket...

"Take your things, Gregor. We're getting out of here." Gascon announced.

Once I had the strength to get up, I took my first glance at my helmet, picking it up to see it in the light with all its glory... The helmet was mostly dirty white with yellow stripes surrounding a blue visor. The whole helmet was dotted with tally marks... Now pride swept into me, seeing how much fighting I have once seen. Knowing that I was a perfect soldier, that nothing can change my course in destiny... Either that or death, I would still serve for a tenfold more righteous cause than the one I previously 'served' in.

And as I can expect from such a worm, Borkus begged. "Don' leave, Gregor. I's a big galaxy ou' there. Bigger than choo know! Stay 'ere vhere choo'r life is _simple_."

I remember when he would tell me lies, 'It's better to have a simple life than no life at all.' No more can I put with him... No more...

"_'Simple'_ isn't good enough... Not for this clone." I'm a _person_. I am soldier and alike to millions of my brothers. It was time for me to live and fulfill the destiny that has always been set in stone for me!

And in his last effort, Borkus snorted saying, "Ha! Choo will never get off Abafar, choo an' choo'r little _Republic_ friends; not after choo'r Jedi cruiser blows up!"

This information got Gascon's exasperated attention. "What are you talking about?"

Borkus took amusement at his ignorance, "Vhy do choo tink the Sep'ratists bother comin' 'ere. They ar' mining our Rhydonium to load on the shuttle and destroy choo'r ride home!" _Coruscant?! My new home?!_

Gascon gave a look towards me and then looked back at Borkus after he gave away the secret for the Rhydonium mines.

And Mr. Borkus was beginning to get even more insane. "Choo vill see. Choo vill all be stuck 'ere begging Borkus vor a _job_ in this _diner_!"

Then he burst into those most horrid guffaws, laughing over and over again, disillusioned into believing why we would even come back here if we failed. (Which I swear on my most sacred honor shall not happen!)

It seems that even being in the safe boundaries of this city, the Void has finally made its way to the manipulative Bosius Borkus.

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**Please review and tell me what you think!**


	5. Armored Memory

**Here is a quick update, mostly over the idea that I want to get this particular story over with rather than hand it out as chunks. So here you go.**

* * *

**"Mist and Shadows, Cloud and Shade"**

"I think we should give him the cold shoulder." Wack suggested about how they would deal with Mr. Borkus... But as much as I hated the bloated Sullustan, I couldn't see how revenge would help my stolen time in life... All I wish is to return with my brothers, or continue with D-Squad since I can so very and truly relate to these droids...

Yet, I still remember earlier today and how I was so adamant about keeping my dishwashing job in order to not live out in the streets and become insane. After all, poverty can warp the mind into utter disillusionment. I might not understand what that feels like, but I sure as Hell got a taste of poverty just by living here. Hopefully the conditions of the Republic is a whole lot more... _accommodating_.

I can't wait to go home... I can't wait to be a part of what I was bred to do... I wish to fight, regardless of what it could do on the mind. I am like a child: excited in being a part of the action. Fighting is what my mind wraps around to being since that was how I was programmed to believe... I only wish fighting _moral_ values that _interlude_ with war isn't a part of it... But then again, I was able to discern and remember the horrors that took place on Sarrish, so maybe I am a lot more human than I give myself credit for.

"Yeah, let's get going... The whole town will hear his boisterous laughter. We better leave before droids show up." I pointed out.

"Actually...," Gascon thought for a moment, "His commotion could give us a distraction to draw more droids _away_ from the mines and to this here diner."

I could hear a slight hint of sadism with this plan, but it seemed like the best option we got... It's the least Bosius Borkus deserves. "Agreed."

The Colonel gave a nod, "Very well. Let's find a place for you to change into your armor, Gregor... And see if we can spot that Jedi cruiser your former boss was talking about."

Wack spoke out-of-line. "Let's get behind one of those dumpsters. It's the last place those droids will look." The truth in his words caused me to give an admiring look. Despite his child-like behavior, the small Pit Droid seemed to make a really good point. There were dumpsters in the alleyways, some of them big enough for me to hide behind.

"I coincide the Corporal, Colonel Gascon." I noted to the Zilkin

"Very well. We will do as the droid suggests."

And so we left the Power Sliders, away from the insane body of Mr. Borkus, and found a large dumpster behind a shop called Game-Go, with its trash heap filled with all types of electronic know-how. But I wasn't concerned about that. I got into my armor and I _must_ admit, _it felt like nothing._ It felt like going into a uniform again after being off-duty for a week... It fit like a glove, and despite appearing oversized and dense, I could understand the necessity of having it be like that. Every part of the yellow-striped, dust-stained, sleek-white armor was exaggerated, especially the shoulders, knee caps, and torso. The other equipment that I didn't wear got piled into my magnetized backpack.

With the armor of a Commando, I would easily be able to take blaster shots without much of a scratch. And who knows, perhaps the armor can help a clone survive in even _rigorous_ struggles. I can only hope that I experience such tasks. Just wearing the suit makes me feel invincible, not that I could survive anything thrown at me, but that I became confident in succeeding while wearing it.

And as I picked up my helmet to look into the blue visor (with the whole face of it covered in tally marks that I could only assume were the number of missions I participated in), memories started to flash in my reflection, making me realize all the more as to who I really am. I am an _elite_. I am _special_. That's all I ever care for. To me, fighting for the Republic was the best job I could ever partake in.

"Gregor, are we ready to move out?" Gascon ordered.

I took my DC-17m, understanding who I really am. "Sir, yes, sir." So I walked into the spotlight, fully clothed in an impenetrable cocoon, ready to complete _another_ mission.

This time, all the droids buzzed in admiration, even Beezee. But what struck me most as humorous was the noise Qutie made. Very distinctly, I could hear a high-pitched '_Whoooooaaa_!' bleep, while Artoo gave a chuckle at Qutie's regard... I smiled. The playful personalities of all these droids was simply _irresistible_.

I gave a friendly chuckle towards the pink astromech, "You're a Cutie, Qutie." The droid gave almost a giggle at hearing that.

"Alright, enough bantering." Gascon announced, "We are on a time frame and have an important mission to complete. I'll lead. Gregor, you follow in back." I can hardly wait.

* * *

We took an alleyway from the entrance ramp, along to the facility that nestled against the middle section of Pons Ora. The mine itself dug even lower into the ground than the rest of downtown. The facility itself was almost finished with its plan of attack, which is _now_ (naturally) _my duty_ to oppose...

Oddly enough, I found the small area of the town to be ten times smaller than it used to be. Perhaps that is because I recently learned that there is a whole galaxy out there. A galaxy I tried earnestly to remember more of.

Once we reached the end of the alley, Gascon stopped us. "Okay, let's see what we're up against. Gregor!" I knew exactly what to do. Wearing the armor made me remember parts of my life again, back when I was training in Tipoca City under the Mandalorians Kal Skirata and Jango Fett.

_I was in perfectly white armor, sleek to match the perfect interior of Kamino. Kal walked up to a group of us, preparing to divide into fours. _

_"__Think of yourselves as a hand. Each of you is a finger, and without the others you're useless. Alone, a finger can't grasp, or control, or form a fist. You are nothing on your own, and everything together._" I remembered every word from him. Remembered how I felt once I picked up that helmet and saw my reflection for the first time. Saw who I really am.

_I am the elite of the elite._

I placed my helmet on firmly and pridefully, climbing atop a trash canister to get a better view of the burning-orange sky. And true enough, I could see a cruiser through the haze. "Wait. There! There's a cruiser up there." I pressed a scanning button on the right side of my helmet to pull up a name. The information told me that the cruiser was called is the _Renown_, curious if it is already commandeered or if the droids are planning on using the shuttle as a Trojan Horse. Looking down, I could identify the canisters, even get a readout as to how far they were just by looking through the calculating visor. Ordnance lifter droids were loading the fuel canisters into the attack shuttle. "And that shuttle, I think-" I zoomed to identify the ordnances and what their contents are. "Yes, it's being loaded up with _Rhydonium_ canisters." Just as I expected.

I hopped off to talk directly with D-Squad, taking off the helmet once more. "Huh, I guess Mr. Borkus was actually telling the truth... for once."

Wack became exquisite again, "What _exactly_ is Rhydonium?"

They **weren't **going to like the answer. "It's a fuel. Mostly been mined on Abafar. It's volatile and dangerous." Enough said.

Artoo gave a questioning buzz, which Qutie followed with in agreement, *Do we have a new mission?*

Gascon could tell exactly what they were saying, which I too was getting the hang of. "Yes, we _do_ have a new mission: _Stop_ the Separatists from blowing up that cruiser."

It felt almost like a normal routine that I have forgotten too long. Not anymore. "I'll cover you and clear the way, Colonel. You all head straight for the shuttle. I'll take care of those clankers."

"Hmmmm," Gascon began to take up his battle-prep voice, "Sounds like a good plan. You soldiers ready to get dangerous?" The Mechs warbled, as excited for action as I was.

I put on my helmet again and got ready to support their assault on the facility. "I'll meet you at the shuttle, sir..." That was a _promise_, **not** a _briefing_.

The Colonel, for one more time, turned to his comrades. "Let's roll."

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**One more chapter. I wish there was a Clone Wars DK book with a map Pons Ora to help give the idea where everything's at. I would love to have something like that, Disney? Yes, I'm talking to you!?**

**Anyways, do REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW and I'll finish next chapter as soon as I can.**


	6. A New Life

**Last part of this story... The ending, and as the title box says and how the episode really ends, it will be a tragedy... So I hope you enjoy.**

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**"All Shall Fade..., A-a-all ****_Shall_****... Fade"**

The droids began to march to the entrance, and of course I was _beyond_ ready to serve in however way I can.

"Hey!" One of the B1 security droids attempted to hail my squad. "You need _authorization_ to enter this area." _I don't._

**_Blast!_**

The shot quickly and precisely hit the two, with my helmet constantly informing me of all the weak points that were there.

D-Squad passed the barrier, alerting more and more sentries to all of us. "Get them." A couple of shots and those two others were scrap metal. But despite the adrenaline rush that was _undoubtably_ going through me, I felt _fear_. _Uncertainty_. Like there would be something that might shift the tide with this assault.

_Remember! Remember a strategy!_ I knew that I had to split up from the rest of my squad and draw the droids' attention **away** from them. I will need to find high ground in order to gain a substantial advantage.

This all happened spontaneously. Despite being rusted from experience, the weight of the commando armor was like a long-lost friend recently reunited. My actions felt so 'lightweight' that a shot would be like nothing. I need an explosion to entice my warrior persona.

I hopped onto a small storage garage (perfectly symmetrical and sleek white) to get an advantage point. I saw the shuttle. The working conveyor belts that led to the interior of the mine. But most of all, the droid patrols that covered the area.. Home was _so _close yet _so_ far away... I took some more shots on the droids... They were no match for my DC-17m.

I heard Wack even give some encouragement, "Good job, Gregor!"

I ran across a 'bridge' to get onto another storage garage, in an effort to draw the droids to me.

However my squad was still getting some attention from the enemy, so I did something that I wanted to do for a long time. I took my blaster and shot it at one of the Rhydonium canisters to cause a colorful explosion and by so doing divert attention to me. Memory and memory flashed. I just wish I had this ability a _long_ time ago.

_On Sarrish, I got assigned to lead Ghost Company into a narrow chasm. The three other commandos of my squad were shot down, leaving me to lead their legacy. My Company **had** to survive._

_After planning out that I would go on top of a ridge to divert enemy attention to me, the rest of the Company sneaked behind the droids posted there... It **failed**. After firing a few shots (and after the Company began to sneak around), recon commando droids came from behind and forced me to focus my attention on them rather than to safeguard my brothers... I gave them up to save my own life... And although I was able to destroy the commandos, it was too late. The other droids that I was meant to distract found the Company and they became sitting ducks... Ghost Company was **massacred**, with only a few troopers who were able to survive... They ran..._

_Commando droids then began to hop on speeder bikes to chase them down. The Company was outrunned and outmatched. I **had** to find help, so after much trailing away, I discovered a Maxillipede Shuttle that I could use to get back to command. The nearest place was Valor space station orbiting Carida. It would be a long shot if I was able to get help in time, but it was the only option I could think of... However, as I was about to hit the coordinates, a smuggler jumped me (who apparently was planning on using the shuttle as much as I was), and I hit the wrong coordinates... I came out of hyperspace between a rock and a hard place. I was able to knock the smuggler out cold, but the ship was launching head-first through a comet storm, rupturing the entire shuttle and forcing me to crash-land on the wasteland of Abafar... _

_When I crashed, I was knocked out cold like the smuggler._

I cannot allow that to happen again. I _will not_ let that happen again. The droids of D-Squad are so much like me... But this was _no_ place for sentimentalists. I was in a war like I always am!

Before I could think any more, I saw some rolling-droids come out from the mine and towards me, unfolding into a fast-shooting monster and equipped with high-powered velocity shields. I shot a few rounds in vain, but it was only absorbed... More battle droids were starting to march out. I became outnumbered.

My visor screen turned red, pointing an arrow downwards, which I instinctively took as a sign that a blaster bolt was about to hit my helmet... And as I ducked, I felt the heat of it sear slightly past my ear. The commando technology had luckily saved me in the nick-of-time. "I'm beginning to remember how much I hate these guys!" I shouted to myself.

_I remembered being in a crater, luckily unscorched by artillery... But same couldn't be said for the other three commandos of my Squad... They were blasted to pieces. I was the only one left, the leader of the group... but the loser as well._

_Droidekas came as reinforcements... I was shot many times, and would have died had it not been for such protective armor that I wore... _

Well, I swear that I _wouldn't_ die _then _and I swear that I _won't_ die _now_!

I saw another fuel canister and took the chance that I didn't have on Sarrish. I ruptured it, causing even the Droidekas' shields to disintegrate into scrap... I looked at D-Squad as they began to board the attack shuttle with Wack waiting bravely in the rear for me... _Home at last! Home at last!_

After jumping off another 'bridge' and off again from another pile of canisters, I asked the question that I was desperate to ask. "Did everybody make it?!" I blasted at some more waves as they edged closer to me.

But the answer I got was the one I didn't want to hear. "No! Beezee and the Colonel are still out there!"

I _didn't_ stress. I knew what I had to do if something like this were to happen. And I **wasn't** prepared to abandon my comrades to die like what I did on Sarrish.

"Get the shuttle ready to roll." I sprinted to the fallen R5; rolling, tumbling, and of course shooting to get my way there... It didn't awe me too much. A commando squad, after all, is as triumphant as a small army.

Once I got to my quarry, I picked up the violently battered Beezee, opened the lid, and found the Colonel in there, barely alive. "Colonel, are you alright!?"

He popped out, demonstrating the wariness of a nuna that lost a leg, "I'll _never_ make it back alive!" _I shall have no pessimistic attitude like that in my ranks!_

"Yes you will, sir!" I gave a pat on Beezee to inspire him to limp his way to the shuttle... There was an even greater motive to help Beezee make it home to Coruscant. He is practically a _robotic_ _embodiment_ of **_me_**! "This is what I was born to do! Now go, _before_ it's too late!"

I knew what I had to do... I had to divert enemy fire towards me for the mission to succeed... And that meant marching off into the blaster-fray. That choice would likely cause only death..., but I promised that I would not allow another massacre to take place because of my actions. I am a soldier, after all...

More droid patrols marched out... I was outnumbered 100 to 1 (_again_)... I vaulted over a conveyor belt to get a better shot at them... Even _more_ droids marched out. It was man _vs._ machine. And yet I was the _man_ who was aiding _machines_ to succeed. But that didn't bother me. I was programmed to be like a machine and not much more.

I heard the ship power up and begin to lift into the blood-red sky... **Mission Accomplished!**

"It's been an honor serving with you, Colonel." I declared loudly into my audio speakers. _And in all truths, it was no lie. I learned to become whole again. I learned to have life again. I learned to fight, to serve, to be a **human**!_

I blasted at some more droids, in a precise effort to delay the enemy as long as possible. And I knew now that the enemy _wasn't_ myself anymore...

But the Colonel didn't seem able to take 'no' for an answer. "Artoo is right. We can swing back around and pick you up." _And jeopardize the mission! If **our** programming were to fail because of me, I would never be able to forgive myself!_

"Don't worry about me! You made me remember who I am...!" That's all that mattered now. But to ease their hearts, I added one last vow. "I'll make my way _home_, _**I promise!**_"

So the ship hesitantly took off for home without me..., but I wasn't hesitant whatsoever. Like I said, I was _whole_ again! I was in my prime! I was doing exactly as I was programmed to do!

The filter of my visor was now completely red, but I ignored the warnings of blaster hits. I intended to keep a 'loving' haze with my sight, even as more and more droids came to overwhelm me... But in spirit, I was _hardly_ overwhelmed. How could I ever be?! _They're just machines. In the end, they'll know that they **will** fail!_

I shot at another canister to spread some more beautiful fire... NOT ENOUGH!

I ducked my head as I shot at some tumbling Rhydonium ordnances... NOT ENOUGH!

I had to create a _chain reaction_ if the 'fire' is to be big enough to destroy everything, even if that would mean to take a little bit of myself with it as well... When I saw a line of canisters, I took my chance to succeed _by_ failing.

Who am I? Do you really want to know? The story of my short life cannot be understood by the simple combustion of machine-men. I **am** a warrior. I fight for myself to preserve myself to be the armor for others. That is why I was bred in the first place. To be cannon fodder for the greater good of those who wish _not_ to be droids. Who wish to see the world in three dimensions rather than only one that preside with the unrefined... For I know that with every despair, there is hope. All fire has both a giving side and destructive side... And I wish to create enough fire to take from and with everything that I hope to do...

I shot at one last 'empty box' to create a bright and spectacular explosion that engulfed everything in my sight... And after witnessing the blinding light, darkness came to fade me evermore into a _doomed_ cage... But through it all, my memory taught me one thing:

I still had my armor to protect me from that burning blaze..., in order to see into the next dimension.

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**THE END**

**- ItsATrap101**


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